10 Classic movie men you should emulate

But just certain traits. Don’t go full-on any of these guys. That would be insane

People are always banging on about today’s leading men being vapid sops dribbling vacuous dialogue down their fluffy chins; that your average film protagonist is so cardboard that if you sprayed him with a garden hose he’d wither into a moist pile of paste.

This hasn’t always been the case. There was a time when movie men were complex, charismatic, and often sociopathic. You know, men you could look up to.

While it’s true that each of these characters, on their own, should be incarcerated immediately if they’re not already dead, this merry band of nutbars do contribute essential ingredients in the alchemy of GQ’s Vitruvian Man: the film version.

1/10

Han Solo, Star Wars (1977)

He had that cocksure side-stride before hip-hop was even invented, he knew how to neg a girl into liking him before anyone knew what a pick-up artist was, his spaceship is the equivalent of a monster truck; but he’s also got a sensitive side. He’s kind to animals – his best friend’s a wookie – he’s always got his friends’ backs – take that, stupid Sarlaac pit – and he looks cool in a vest. Pick any quality of Han Solo, add it to what you’re doing and you’ll probaly be alright. (Just not the international smuggling thing. That never works for very long.)

The Dude, aka Jeffrey Lebowski, The Big Lebowski (1998)

The Dude. That’s what you call him, man. Or Duder. Or his Dudeness. Or El Duderino if you’re not into the whole brevity thing. While adopting the life philosophy of Jeffrey Lebowski into your own may look tempting – there is actually a cult-sized, err, cult, that ordains people into the The Church of the Latter-Day Dude – don’t forget that Jeff Bridges’ greatest ever character is such because he’s drawn between the blurry boundaries of movie-land. Please apply your real-life Dudeism in moderation: no robes shall be worn outdoors, no white-russians consumed before 11 am, etc. Your boss, your wife, your actual friends will not find your full-time Dude charming.

Billy, Easy Rider (1969)

You know all those images of macho dudes on motorycles that are supposed to make you feel like that whole motorcyle-riding deal is manliness in its essential form? They’re wrong. Unless you’re talking about Dennis Hopper’s drugged-out directorial debut, where it’s him, as Billy, or, why not, Peter Fonda as Captain America as well, that show you what being cool on a motorcycle is all about. We’re not advocating loading your teardrop fuel tank full of coke and burning off to Mardi Gras to do acid with hookers – but if that’s your thing, that’s cool. What you want to take away from Easy Rider-era Hopper is how to carry yourself as your own individual through a world that beyond being indifferent, might also be hostile. Just watch out for hicks in trucks with shotguns and you should be fine.

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)

No, we’re not talking about that effiminate little pageboy ferret in Tim Burton’s adaptation of Roald Dahl’s classic kids’ book. We’re talking about wily-haired, always-just-about-ready-to-eat-your-soul Gene Widler. The Wonka’s Wonka. He sings creepy songs, he recites creepy rhymes to kids, he’s the last true master of fairy tales before political correctness ruined the genre forever. Your takeaway from Wonka is that sometimes, man-traits from eariler, dandier times need not necessarily go the way of the Oompa Loompa. Wear that top-hat, sing to yourself as you walk, and if some pampered brat gets lippy, give him a little whack with your man-cane. He’ll grow up all the better for it. (Note: This does not always apply to strangers’ children.)

Ferris Bueller, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)

Look. This kid knows how to have fun, anywhere, anytime, even with comatose misanthropes. No matter where you go you or what you do, be smart, be serious, but always have a little Ferris Bueller in your back pocket. You never know when you’ll find yourself singing on a parade float in the middle of a weekday.

Hunter S Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)

“Bring me three margaritas, six beers, and whatever these folks would like to have.” Ex-US-presidential candiate George McGovern describes this as Hunter Thompson’s request to their restaurant server one fine evening back in the early Seventies. Hunter’s daily balance of cocaine and Chivas kept him going as he wrote some of the most influential work in the English language in the last half century. Taking lifestyle cues from Thompson is tricky. You will not necessarily write better after an 8-ball and a bottle of bourbon, but you’ll never know until you try. Consider Thompson as a creative influence for your early career. But drop him before you keel over, or worse, like him, put a gun in your mouth.

Gordon Gekko, Wall Street (1987)

You’re interested in this Eighties Wall Street baron because he’s a characer study in single-mindedness, no bullshitery and ulitmate fuck-offitude. In Oliver Stone’s ode to financial evil, you will watch Gekko’s character development – or lack thereof – and you will know by his failings when, in your own life, you should pull back. You’ll know when admirable focus turns to corrosive greed. Attempt the Gekko adaptation with caution, and remember that when it comes to the consequences of excessive greed, a little self-awareness goes a long way. Do you like squash?

Tyler Durden, Fight Club (1999)

It’s been long enough since it’s been a spoiler to be able to quote the unnamed Fight Club guy’s alter ego, Tyler Durden. He “looks like you wanna look, fucks like you wanna fuck… I am free in all the ways you are not.” For most of us, the closest we’re going to get to Tyler is some Weekend Warrior thing with a bunch of bitter divorcés, but it doesn’t mean we should still be walking into work every day with our lips puckered, searching out asses to kiss. If you can manage to go full Tyler Durden, you’ve won the game and need to be canonized. And please tell us how. We promise we won’t talk about it.

Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver, (1976)

Stalking. Plotting political assassinations. Multiple homicide. Appropriating Mohican culture insensitively. The incorrigible Mr Bickle is a bad bad man. But way, way down, his is a disaffected soul with a deep desire to do good. He’s just got zero social tools with which to do so. That’s the sadness of this character. But more than thinking about that little bit of Travis in yourself, remember that within every other Travis, there’s a little bit of them that wants to do good but might not know how, and maybe you could be that helping hand they need. It’s about empathy before snap judgement. It’s about kindness and universal bro-hood. But, you know, if someone slides a pistol up their hidden arm-holster at you, forget this shit and run. That Travis one messed-up muthafucka.

Alexander DeLarge, A Clockwork Orange (1971)

Actually, there’s nothing redeemable about this little bastard. He is sociopathology incarnate. Malevolence in a bowler hat. He is pure evil in a codpiece. Superb fucking film though.